


The Night Watch Confidential

by IcamaneHatake



Category: Pathfinder: Kingmaker (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Guilt, Late Night Conversations, Mutual Pining, Romance, Slow Burn, Sorcerer Baroness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:13:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27953681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcamaneHatake/pseuds/IcamaneHatake
Summary: Something about the twilight triggered an impulse in him, pushed him to want to talk to her. Their conversations in the dark always seemed the most honest...Tristian and the Baroness take watch together, night after night, and darkness has a way of thinning the facades they create.
Relationships: The Baroness/Tristian (Pathfinder: Kingmaker)
Kudos: 10





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> A collection of conversations and moments in the dark between Tristian and my human sorcerer Elra.
> 
> Major game spoilers through the end of Betrayer’s Flight!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tristian joins a mercenary sorceress to try and claim the Stolen Lands from the Stag Lord and finds himself unexpectedly enraptured by her.

Tristian had no idea how he had gotten himself into this mess. More correctly, he didn’t know why he had agreed to get into it. He could have, should have, told Nyrissa he would not be bait or a spy for her, that she could do without his service anymore. But he feared losing the connection to Sarenrae even more, and thus had made the cowardly decision to do what his new master bid. 

He was sitting in a camp deep within the Narlmarches, finishing his meager, campfire cooked meal, surrounded by a motley crew of women. His body ached from the wounds that still lingered from the encounter at the temple earlier in the day. He tried to ignore the pains and examine his companions as carefully as he could without seeming obvious. The wild haired, heavily muscled woman, Amiri, had been the first to finish her food and was now sharpening her ridiculously sized sword. She was boasting about some amazing hunt to a very small, possibly halfling woman scribbling away in a book. Linzi was her name, he remembered. He couldn’t be sure on her race - mortals were still confusing to him. Linzi seemed to only be half listening to Amiri, ink staining her fingertips as she wrote countless words. Opposite them was Valerie, who was shining her doffed armor very carefully, either oblivious to Amiri’s ramblings or very good at ignoring them. She was quite beautiful, for a human, her sculpted face wearing an expression of extreme focus, a hand sometimes lifting from her work to brush back her cropped hair. And across the fire from Tristian himself was the final party member, the leader. She had introduced herself as Elra Ironfist, and though she was almost half a head shorter than Tristian, she didn’t seem quite short or stocky enough to be a dwarf. She was laughing along to Amiri’s story, occasionally egging her on with disbelieving questions, finger combing her red hair after taking it down from its braid. Tristian watched her the closest, for it was her that this whole situation revolved around.

Part of him wished he had just denied Elra’s offer to travel with them and faced Nyrissa’s wrath later. 

But when Elra had spoken to him at the temple, he simply couldn’t refuse her. 

He absolutely hated the situation he was already in before this, and still was. To be bound to Nyrissa and ripped away from his goddess was unbearable. He hadn’t expected Nyrissa’s creations to attack him too at the Temple of the Elk, but he should have been. It was just like her, to throw her toy into a situation that could easily end him. Elra and her crew had shown up just in time, slinging spells and swords until all the monsters were defeated. And when she asked him if he would join her, that she and her party were going to end the Stag Lord’s rule and they could use a healer, he simply couldn’t refuse her. Though she did not look the most fierce, wearing nothing but traveling clothing and a pack, something in the way she spoke, her very soul, was formidable. 

Something about her made him think he might be able to delay her undoing from the nymph. There was a spark of a fighting chance about her. 

“If you are done with the cookware, I will be washing things before we bed for the night.” A shadow loomed over him, and he looked up to see Valerie standing beside him, three bowls in hand. 

“Oh, thank you,” Tristian said. “And thank you for lending me things, I have very little of my own.” 

“I never travel without extra,” she said simply, taking his empty bowl and fork before walking away to fetch Elra’s. The other woman thanked her, then walked over toward Tristian. He fidgeted with his hands, immediately clasping the symbol of Sarenrae that hung from his belt. ‘ _Everlight, please guide me. I do not know what to do._ ’ 

“So, how are you feeling, Tristian?” Elra asked, striding up to him. She looked different in the firelight, or maybe it was her hair? She looked more feminine, the red strands framing her strong face. She wore a faint look of concern, arms crossed. He could see the light refract off of a few old burn scars on her forearms, along with the pink markings of closed bite wounds left by the monsters from earlier that day. “I didn’t push you too hard on today’s march, did I?” 

She sat down beside him on the log, though not terribly close. He turned to look at her now, making brief eye contact that he couldn’t hold for long. He felt as if her amber eyes would see right through to his soul, to see what he truly was. He instead looked at the small details he could see on her face now - a scar on her right brow and cheek that broke up her eyebrow; the natural tint of flush on her cheeks; the smattering of freckles; slightly parted lips that waited for his answer. 

“Oh, no,” he finally said, feeling a bit unnerved. “No, I’m quite alright. Thank you, again, for… for saving me.” He gripped the statue a little tighter. “I know I’ve said it, but it bears repeating.” 

She smiled, and he had to look away to his knee. He did not really deserve her kindness. 

“Of course. I’m glad we were able to be there in time, or that bear might have torn you apart.” He thought she meant that as a joke, but he couldn’t tell. Mortal humor was also lost on him. “Anyways, I just wanted to check in with you. Tomorrow we’ll be back to the trading post where there are real beds. Don’t worry about anything except resting tonight.” 

He felt a strange pang in his chest. “Surely I can help with something?” he offered. “I’m sorry I wasn’t much help setting up the camp—”

But Elra waved a hand and cut him off. “It’s fine, you have no idea how we set up. You need your rest, you’ve had a long day.” She paused, watching her companions with a small smile on her face. “Perhaps, should you choose to stay with us, you can take evening watch with me. Valerie won’t complain an inch if I ask, but I know she hates doing watch.”

“I would be honored to help in any way. You have shown me great kindness. I hope I can return the favor.” Why did he say that? He should have taken the out. Tristian felt a touch afraid at how easy it was to speak to her without thinking. 

She frowned a little now and turned to face him again. Had he said something wrong? “Saving a man from being eaten by beasts is a great kindness?” No, she sounded puzzled. “Good gods, what sort of land have I gotten myself into?” she asked, though it seemed more to herself than to him. 

“Many in the Stolen Lands would have left me for dead. Or saved me, but robbed me. Either way, I have my life and my possessions.” It was his turn to smile. “You have shown me more kindness than most people I have met on my travels. You saved me, healed me, gave me a place to rest, protection, a purpose in these lands…” He had to stop himself. He was rambling. 

“Any decent person would do the same,” she answered. Tristian thought her cheeks looked a little more red. “There must not be many decent people in the Stolen Lands.” 

“Now there are at least four,” he said, attempting a joke with a weak smile. 

“Five, you mean,” she corrected. “You forgot to count yourself.” 

“Oh, uh, y-yes, of course,” he stuttered. He felt his own face heat, and he turned away, ducking into the retreat of his hood. Why did her insistence of his own goodness affect him so?

Perhaps because it was a lie. He wasn’t good, not really. No matter how many good deeds he accomplished, they could not outweigh the havoc he caused as Nyrissa’s hand. He couldn’t help but compare Elra to Nyrissa already, how differently they treated him when he was at his weakest. 

She patted him on the shoulder as she stood. “Sleep well, Tristian. Valerie will wake you in the morning.” He twitched under her touch, brief as it was, and it left warmth there in his shoulder for a long while after she left. 

May Sarenrae guide him. He had no idea how to navigate this situation.

* * *

Camp had been set just to the south of the Old Sycamore tree. They had been traveling together for some time now, several weeks at least. Tristian still had trouble with the way time worked on Golarion. They had picked up new companions along the way. Elra seemed to attract the misfits and less fortunate. She was already friends with Octavia and Regongar, the slaves they had rescued, and even managed to get on with the pessimistic Harrim and cold-hearted Jaethal. Tristian couldn’t help but admire the way she easily navigated every conversation. Her confidence, her quick wit, her command in battle were all things Tristian felt he lacked. She had a way with words and spell slinging that left him in awe and flustered. 

‘ _I hope you stay as long as you can, Tristian. You have a noble heart_.’ 

Even now, weeks after she spoke those words to him, he felt his cheeks flush just at their memory. She spoke so honestly, sincerely. If only she knew that he was under service, even unwillingly, to an enemy that sought her destruction, that wished to use her as a tool. It filled him with a shame so powerful that he wanted to run away from it all. But he couldn’t. Elra would be disappointed in him, and he had grown rather fond of her and all the others. 

Camp had finally quieted down. Tristian was laying out his bedroll, looking forward to a night under the stars. He saw Elra doing a walk just out of firelight around the camp, looking for signs of danger. As he watched, he noted her limp and frowned. The day's adventure had been long and taken a toll on them all, but he hadn’t noticed her limp until now. Or she had been hiding it. Knowing Elra, it was probably the latter. 

She finished her round and came to sit back at the low fire. Tristian slowly approached and sat on the log next to hers. Tristian took his time deciding what to say and in what order, and finally spoke almost a minute later. “You did a noble thing today, Elra. Stopping the kobold and mites from warring was a mighty feat,” he finally said, steadying his nerves and looking at her. 

“Thank you,” she sighed, voice tinged with sadness. Tristian wished for a moment that he could solve her sadness, then brushed the thoughts away. “I just… I wish Tartuccio had listened to me. I didn’t want to kill him, or the kobolds that he had brainwashed.” She picked up a stick to poke the fire with, turning the logs. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, he was an ass, but he deserved jail, not the grave.” Her face was lined with melancholic thought, shadows from the flames dancing upon them and making her seem far older than she really was. 

“He forced your hand,” Tristian offered gently, hoping to calm her. “Sarenrae offers mercy and forgiveness, but not all who are offered it take it. Too many see mercy as a defeat, a blow to their egos they will never recover from.” 

She turned her wry smile from the flames to him now. “Very wise words, especially coming from a man who spent most of his life in a temple. But… thank you. You’re right.” Her smile fell again. “I’m afraid I’ll have too many enemies that follow the same pattern.” 

“Will you offer mercy to the Stag Lord?” Tristian asked, unable to help himself. He was genuinely curious. 

“I… I may. He’s done horrible things. His past… his father molded him into the very thing he hated.” She turned and swung a leg over the log so she was straddling it, facing him now. Tristian felt his mouth go dry at the direct attention she was giving him. “Would you?” 

“Should he seek forgiveness and redemption… I would not deny him,” Tristian answered. “But… but I am not to be the leader of these lands. You are. You must make the choice for yourself. I can only offer council.” 

“Everyone thinks I should just kill him,” she sighed out, picking at the bark on the log. “I think Lady Aldori expects it. Even Linzi and Octavia…” Her voice trailed off as she examined the log, running her fingers over the bark, tracing patterns in the natural paths. “I just don’t know. Again, I don’t think he would even ask for mercy, or accept it. And it’s not like I want him to walk free, I just… he should answer for his crimes, you know?” 

Tristian smiled as she looked back up at him. “You have a good heart, Elra. You will be a very fine ruler.” 

She let out a slight chuckle. “Thank you. Glad at least a few people believe in me.” 

“So many do,” Tristian said. “You’ve already changed many lives.” He felt a little sad, remembering Nyrissa’s instructions. But he had to try and have hope, and give it to Elra too. “Think of how much good you can do with the full force of a barony behind you.” 

“Only thanks to all of you,” she said, a blush growing on her face. He had not heard her this unsure before, her cool facade slipping a little. The reason deeply intrigued him. “I couldn’t do this without the team.” 

“None of us could accomplish such feats alone,” Tristian said, voice gentle. For some reason, he longed to reach over the few feet between them and grab her hand, even as guilt consumed him at her words. “I could not heal without the guidance of The Everlight. Without you to lead us, we would not be a team.” _Without me to be your undoing, you could possibly succeed against Nyrissa._

“I suppose you are right,” she said, looking back up to him. Her eyes were glittering in the firelight, seeming alive with the flames. 

“Now, will you let me heal you?” Tristian asked. She threw him a suspicious look, so he added, “I saw you limping earlier. You can’t hide it forever.” 

“Really, it’s nothing,” she started. “You’re probably tired anyways, it’s not a big deal.” 

“Elra,” he said quietly, stopping her excuses. “Please.” 

She looked for a few moments like she would argue, then let out a deep sigh and shifted within an easy reach to him on her log. Tristian noted that if he moved just six or so inches forwards, their knees would be touching. Why did he care so much? They had been back to back in battle before, eaten meals side by side, hiked through forest, swamp, and plains together. Why did this feel different? 

His mouth was dry again. “Where does it hurt?”

“Right side. Mostly my hip from where I fell, and my ankle is still a bit swollen and sensitive from twisting it,” she admitted, and not readily. Tristian knew if he hadn’t called her out on this, she would have marched and fought tomorrow with a lingering injury, and that just wouldn’t do. 

“May I?” he asked, and she nodded her head. He took a deep breath before leaning in towards her to place a hand on her afflicted hip. In his other hand, he gripped the statue of Sarenrae very tight, tighter than he needed to. Why was he so on edge? It was just Elra, and the fire and shadows were sharpening her face, emphasizing the perfect shape of her lips…

It was so hard to focus around her like this. It took him a moment to focus his energy and call up the spell. He didn’t need to do much, but he soon felt his hand growing warm with golden light. The spell sunk into her body, and he saw her shoulder slump in relief. He couldn’t help but smile at being right. 

“Is that better?” he asked, trying not to sound smug. It must have been terribly uncomfortable for her. 

“Yes,” she muttered, sticking her tongue out at him. He couldn’t help but laugh a little. His hand drifted down her leg, just inches off the fabric. It felt unseemly to touch her like that, so he refrained, even though a tiny part of his mind was curious how she would react if he did. He gently grasped her heel and brought her foot up to rest on his thigh. He saw her wince when he took her in hand, and didn’t move to remove the boot. 

“I can try and do the spell through your boot,” he offered. “I may not get the placement perfect, but—”

“Oh, just yank it off,” she said, gritting her teeth. “I can take it.”

“I don’t wish to harm you further,” he murmured, hand resting hesitantly on her shin. His skin felt electric, buzzing. 

“I’ll do it then,” she said, and before he could stop her, she leaned over, shifted her leg, and pulled the boot off in three violent jerking motions. The line of her mouth was pressed very flat as she tried to keep her grunts of pain quiet. She dropped the boot to the ground with a whimper, eyes shut. It must be far worse than he expected, or she had just made it worse. 

He didn’t want to argue with her. He really didn’t. But seeing this pain she caused herself so callously bubbled to the surface a chiding question he had been wanting to ask for weeks. “Elra, why do you put yourself through so much pain? You always throw yourself in the way of danger, and you’ve nothing but spells to protect yourself.” He really wasn’t trying to sound condescending, but maybe he came off that way. “Please, I… I don’t mean to be critical,” he added when she didn’t say anything. “I just… I have never healed someone more in such a short time of knowing them. I am deeply worried about you.” 

He was worried about her for a lot of reasons. If she kept this up, she would never be a match for Nyrissa. She must be more cautious. 

Finally, she answered, eyes opening, expression vulnerable, striking confidence replaced by a mournful look. “It’s my job, isn’t it? If I’m going to be the leader, the ruler, whatever… it’s my duty to protect people. You all will be my… subjects, I guess. If something were to happen to any of you…” She didn’t finish the thought. She cleared her throat. “Besides, it’s not like my life is worth more than any of yours just because I’m to be the baroness. I’m not _trying_ to throw my life away or something, but I’m not going to just stand by while lives are in danger.” 

Tristian couldn’t help the surge of affection he felt for her. She truly had the blessing of Sarenrae, even if she didn’t know. “You are very noble and brave, Elra Ironfist,” he said, wishing he had the strength to hold her gaze for longer than a few moments. “However, you can’t protect people from the grave. I just ask you to be more cautious in the future.” He chose his words carefully, trying to convey to her the gravity with which he meant everything. “Your life has great meaning, because it’s your only one.” 

“I… I know,” she answered, a slight waver in her voice. “I… thank you, Tristian. I promise to be more careful.” 

He smiled, surprised he had won their argument. He laid his hand on her ankle delicately, fingers wrapping around the thick woolen sock and the swollen muscles. He was very tired, yes, but he could muster one last spell for her. He murmured a prayer to his goddess and the golden light surrounded his hand once again. He felt the swelling go down as the spell worked its way into her, readjusting and calming the muscles as it went. She let out a sharp sigh of relief, and she let out a chuckle. 

“Thank you,” she said again, testing her ankle before taking her leg off of his to put her boot back on. He had a vague thought that he would have liked to have done that for her before remembering why he wanted to talk to her tonight in the first place. 

“I have a gift for you,” he said, and he reached into one of the padded pouches that hung off his belt. Elra raised her eyebrows in curiosity when he handed her a few small potion vials. “You saved me from meeting my goddess prematurely, and for that I will be forever thankful. This seemed the least I could do to show my gratitude.” He should have left it there and waited for her reply as she turned the vials over in her hands. But he wanted to keep talking to her, so he added in a low voice, “I’m very glad to have met you.” 

“I am as well,” she replied. Her hands trembled slightly as she turned to pack away the potions in her bag. When she turned back to him, she locked eyes with him. “Tristian, I… I wouldn’t mind if we were, erm, closer.” 

This hesitation he had heard from her all evening was puzzling him. And surely she didn’t mean physically closer? She must be doubting their friendship. It seemed plain to him. “Of course! I would be happy to call you my friend.” 

Elra let out a breathy laugh and looked away, a blush clearly forming on her face. “That’s erm… not what I meant.” 

He frowned. What other way could she mean? The only other thing he could think of was… “I… I understand,” he replied. Love. He seemed to guess right, as she looked back at him when he spoke. He hadn’t the faintest clue what mortal love entailed, and needed to cut off the conversation short. “I should get some rest, I’ve distracted you long enough. Perhaps we can talk more later.” 

She seemed relieved when the both stood up. “Yes, erm, good night.” 

“Wake me when you’re tired,” he said, and they parted ways. When her back was turned and she had stepped away from him, he let his last bit of composure drop. His heart was racing far faster than it should. The thought of Elra interested in him in a way beyond friendship was… consuming. He knew he should sway her from it, for her own good. His involvement with Nyrissa’s plans would surely break her heart, cause even this good and kind woman to hate him. And he was terrified, lacking any knowledge of what being a… a _lover_ entails. But the smallest part of him was also thrilled by the thought. 

He prayed for guidance for a very long time that night, and it took even longer for him to find sleep. 

* * *

The feast around him was very lively. From his vantage point about halfway down the table, Tristian could easily watch most people in the Aldori’s great hall enjoy their food, drink, and talk. No one around him had engaged him in anything other than polite, obligatory small talk, and he was thankful for that. He should feel glad that the Stag Lord was dead, that Elra was about to be crowned baroness of the Shrike Hills. Instead, all he could dwell on was Nyrissa, her plans for destroying Elra and the barony, and how he fit into all of it. He knew Nyrissa didn’t care if he tried to defy her - they both knew he ultimately couldn’t. She held so much power over him that he always ended up doing as she commanded. 

Tristian took another small sip from the heavy goblet of wine he held, gaze shifting from its contents up to find Elra. She had found Octavia and Regongar and was sharing another goblet of wine with them, laughing and grinning. He wished he had the courage to go join them. Perhaps some laughter would do him good, even if he didn’t feel much like doing it. Elra said something to Octavia that caused her to light up with delight and hug her. Regongar grinned and led them in a toast. Both he and Elra drained their goblets, and they walked to the table together to refill. They found a bottle near another lord and his company, who gave them disapproving looks. Tristian was just close enough to catch the conversation. 

“I see they’ll make any common sellsword a baroness these days,” the most well-dressed man said, and his companions smirked in agreement. 

Regongar made a move like he was going to do something rash, but Elra’s hand was on the half orc’s chest, pushing him back while composing herself with a wide smirk. “And who are you to determine if I am worthy to be a baroness?” Elra asked cooly. Something about her in this moment made her radiant, Tristian thought, but he couldn’t tell exactly what. 

“Baron Drevel, your… _neighbor_ to the west,” the man answered. “Though not for terribly long, I would guess. You and Varn won’t be able to hold your lands until winter.” 

“And what did you do to earn your lands?” Elra asked, unphased by his threat.

“My family has held land for many generations. I was born to rule.” 

“Ahh yes, born to rule.” Elra took a drink from her goblet. Her face was a bit flushed with drink, her lips tinged purple. “You are terribly rude for someone who’s only claim to ruling is that their ass sits in the chair.” 

Regongar let out a loud bark of a laugh. The man, Lord Drevel, choked on his drink. “Excuse me?”

“And I would think twice about threatening a baroness who is your neighbor. It may be you who doesn’t make it through the winter.” Her eyebrows were raised and her smirk was coy. “May the rest of your evening be as pleasant as you are.” Regongar snatched the bottle of wine off the table and then two of them walked away, leaving Lord Drevel and his companions fuming. Tristian could not help the smile that crept onto his face. Elra parted from Regongar and Octavia and looked around the hall as she stepped away. Her eyes locked onto Tristian, and her smile widened. He gave her a wave, heart pounding a little harder than it had any right to. She made her way around the table, falling into the empty chair beside him. 

“Good gods I can’t stand rich people,” she muttered, taking a long drink. 

“You certainly have a… way with them,” he chuckled. 

“Drevel was just so rude though, and he’s been giving Varn and I dirty looks all night.” She set her goblet down to turn the chair so she faced him directly. “All the others at least are just trying to play politics with me. I can handle that.” She set her elbow on the table and leaned her head on her hand. “Vague intimidation, support this house or the other, trade agreement this, envoy that. Whatever. I just can’t handle the outright threats, and looking down on me like I’m an idiot.” 

“I thought you handled Lord Drevel very well,” Tristian said. A few strands of her shining crimson hair had fallen from her elegant styling, and he longed to push them back from her face.

She gave him a lopsided grin. “Does Sarenrae approve of telling pompous lords that they’re asses?” 

He laughed. “Perhaps not, but I cannot deny, it was amusing to watch.” 

She laughed now too and took another drink. How many goblets of wine would she need to drink before she was drunk? Tristian didn’t know what to do if she was. From his experience, most drunk people liked to fight or otherwise make him uncomfortable. Elra just seemed very giggly. 

“Well if me telling lords the truth about their actions makes you amused, perhaps I should keep doing it,” she teased, leaning towards him. 

He blushed. Why was she saying this? And she was far too close to him and looked too beautiful, her royal purple and gold robes clinging to her form. Her sweet perfume wafted over him, muddling his mind. “Th-that might be unwise. If you insult too many of your neighbors, they won’t like you very much.” He took a sip of his own wine, finding his mouth suddenly very dry. 

“I only outwardly insult the ones who already don’t like me and tell me I’m unworthy to my face,” she defended. “Should I do something else to amuse you?” 

“Do you think I need to be amused?” 

“Yes, actually,” she answered, taking another swig. “You’ve been a bit glum all evening, Tristian. It’s quite unlike you. Are you unhappy with me?” 

“No! No, I am quite happy for you, Elra,” he said, surprised. “I have just been… deep in thought.”

“They seem to be troubling thoughts.” She was very astute. 

“They… are,” he said carefully. 

“Care to share?” Her voice was low, carrying some quality Tristian couldn’t name but made his breath catch, and she leaned in closer to him. Tristian could have counted the freckles and small scars on her face had he not averted his eyes down. He watched her mouth instead, curled into a smile. He wondered if he pressed his lips to hers, if he could taste the sweetness of the wine on them. 

“It’s nothing, really. It will pass.” 

“I see,” she replied, leaning back. She finished off her wine and set the goblet down again on the table with a clang. “Well, then, to shake you out of your melancholy, I can either ask what I was going to earlier this evening, or I could ‘accidentally’ spill my next drink down Drevel’s robes. I’d hate to waste the wine, but anything for you.” 

Tristian’s face heated suddenly, and he took to taking a drink to hide it from her. This was only his first glass of it, but he must have already been feeling the effects. He felt incredibly hot under his robes. He struggled to find his answer under her mischievous look. “I-I will try and answer your question, I suppose. I wouldn’t want you to start a war on my account.” 

She let out a giggle. “Let him try. I would gladly start a war with him if you asked me to.” She reached for her goblet again but found it disappointingly empty. “But you chose the question, so… I’ve been asking different people if they will help me with this whole ruling business. Tristian, I want you to be my Councilor.” 

“Me?” was all he could think to ask. Surely she wasn’t serious, and there were better people for the job, people that weren’t secretly in servitude to a fey. 

“Yes you! You’re the best man for the job. You and Octavia know best how to deal with the common folk, and she’s already accepted my offer to be Reagent.” Her expression had softened. “I’m very serious. I want you by my side with all of this. I need your wisdom and your advice.” 

He should deny her, but then, perhaps he could do some good with the position. He might be able to navigate countering what Nyrissa planned to throw at the barony. And Elra had saved his life. And seemed to mean every single word she said to him. He couldn’t possibly deny her, especially not how she looked right now. 

“I accept. I am delighted that I can better serve you and the people, and that you trust me with such a position.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drunken flirtations are my favorite kind. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Feel free to drop a kudos if you enjoyed :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Elra Ironfirst tackles her first test as Baroness - ridding her land of trolls and kobolds - and tries really hard to not have a crush on her cleric companion

The hill that the new capital had been built upon offered some of the most beautiful views of the Stolen Lands Elra could imagine. The Stag Lord had certainly known what he was doing when he chose this spot for his fort. With a steep cliff face backing up against the Tuskwater on one side, and clear views to the grasslands below, they held excellent tactical advantage here. 

The sunsets, too, were a thing of glory. 

Elra enjoyed walking the streets of her little town when the day’s meetings and work was mostly over. There was constant construction as more and more people decided to settle here - every day it seemed she passed a new shop or house. Her keep, too, grew little by little every day as more stone was laid. It was odd, seeing the keep from the streets, knowing that she lived there, that she was now a baroness. She still had trouble with people bowing to her, calling her  _ Your Grace _ . She hadn’t quite figured out yet how to be impressive and authoritative, yet kind and approachable. Or was she trying too hard at these things? She had lived her life, until quite recently, as a poor commoner, a moderately competent blacksmith, and a newly decided mercenary. To be titled was the oddest thing that had ever occurred to her. 

She took her walk slightly later than normal, the sun half set by the time she walked out of the throne room. Most of the shops were closed, the few people on the streets either seeing themselves home or to the tavern, Elina’s. She passed half a dozen or so guards who all bowed and properly addressed her. She gave them modest smiles and hesitant waves, unsure of what else to do. It was easier to deal with this while she sat on her throne, where she felt a little like she was doing some ruling. As she lapped back towards the keep, stars were beginning to appear in the darkening blue above her head. To the side of the building, in the garden that overlooked the Tuskwater, stood a lone figure, looking out over the land. As Elra drew closer, she could recognize the blue and white robes of Tristian in the fading sunlight. 

Elra froze at the edge of the garden. She had been pointed about not being alone with him since the night at the Aldori’s. She absolutely dreaded what he might say to her about how absolutely shameless she was in her drunken flirtations. They had been perfectly cordial to each other while in groups. She knew that at the very least, it wasn’t something he was going to bring up around others. 

But before Elra could make up her mind if she should say something to him, apologize probably, or just go back inside, he turned around and saw her. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you,” he said, walking over to her. 

Elra cleared her throat. “No, it’s ok, I didn’t want to bother you. You seemed busy.” 

He stopped about five or so paces from her. She could just make out his face, coated in shadow from his hood. “I was just finishing my evening prayers.”

“Ah.” She paused, searching for something to say, to excuse her back inside. 

“Did you need something, Your Grace?” 

She winced. “Please, just… just Elra.” He tilted his head a little as if in confusion. “I hear it enough all day long. You’re my friend, you don’t have to use a title with me. At least not… here.” 

“Here? In the garden, you mean?” 

“Alone, I mean. You… when it’s just us, or when we’re on the road, you don’t have to use the title. I suppose you have to use it when we’re doing official business.” 

“I… see,” he said, a little smile on his face. “As you wish, of course.” 

The smile was unfair, and Elra felt her heart jump a little. It should be a crime for any man to be as perfect and handsome as he was. 

“But… no, I don’t need anything,” she said, clasping her hands behind her back so she wouldn’t fidget. “I just like to take walks in the evenings. It’s very nice out.” 

He looked around a bit, past her shoulder. “It is indeed. Summer along the lake has been very kind to us.” 

“How are you… liking your new position?” It seemed only fair she asked. She had already asked Octavia and Kassil their opinions after all. If there was anything Elra had learned in the few short weeks she had been ruling, it was that her advisors were completely indispensable. 

“I enjoy it,” he answered, turning his attention back to her. “I like being able to help more people. And the people… they will grow to trust you, as we have. Once they see you are not just some other warlord or bandit queen, I know you will win their loyalty.” 

“Hopefully the fair will be persuasive,” she replied, smiling a little. “It was an excellent idea, Tristian.” 

He chuckled a little. “I am working quite hard on it. Though, soon I will need you with me in the planning process. Perhaps we can start when we get back from our trip tomorrow.” 

“Ah, yes. Hopefully it will be quick.” 

“I told you you would make a good ruler, Elra,” he mused. “Very few I suspect would travel into the Narlmarches to find a missing child, especially not one of a poor family.” 

“Well, other rulers are much more interested in the gold in their coffers.” 

He laughed. “And how are you liking your position?” 

She paused. “I… it is not what I expected it to be.” 

“What did you expect ruling to be like?” 

“Well, I… I mean, most of them are just rich people. Titles passed down and whatnot. I mostly imagined noble people to just lay around all day in their lavish homes while smart and devious people ran their land for them. That sounded quite dull to me. This has been anything but. It’s not the usual sort of busy, but it’s good to keep myself occupied.” She felt like she was just saying all the wrong things. “I just… it’s very hard. Every decision I make matters, and affects everyone. Who knows how many of the decisions will be good?”

“No one can tell the future, certainly. But the fact that you take ruling this seriously is a good sign. You are not an apathetic rich noble.” 

Elra laughed, though it felt tinged in cynicism. “I hope I never become one.” 

They were quiet for a moment, and Elra’s thoughts circled back around to apologizing for her advances. “I should turn in for the evening,” Tristian said mercifully. “I have much to prepare for our search tomorrow.” 

“I-yes, same. Goodnight, Tristian.” 

He bowed his head to her. “Good night, Your Grace.” He had a small smirk on his face. Before she could reprimand him, he swept past her and towards the front doors of the keep. 

* * *

Elra had lost track of the days spent in the Narlmarches. The greatest thing she longed for was a hot bath, and almost couldn’t remember what colors her robes had started out. At least they had found one of the things they were looking for, and several they had not been. They had saved a wandering ranger, Ekundayo, from a grievous injury, and he had joined their party to hunt trolls. They had been attacked many days ago by Tartuccio, now Tartuk, and somehow back from the dead, while they tried to help a gnome named Jubilost and his party get their wagon unstuck from the river. They had found the raised hill where an ancient dwarven fortress lay in ruins, and was now being occupied by the troll’s leader-King?-and Tartuk. And now they were setting up camp deep, deep in the marsh, near a ruined village and a local hag they had found. At least they would be heading back to the capital tomorrow, as they were out of leads as to where the missing boy they sought was, and Jubilost had expressed interest in seeing the dwarven ruins. Though Elra might keep that bit private until the trolls and Tartauk had been dealt with. She didn’t want to put Jubilost in unnecessary danger. 

“Oh, I do wish you’d let us stay at the capital for more than one day, Elra,” Octavia said as the two of them gathered branches from fallen trees to disguise their tents with. “I don’t think one bath will be enough to get all the grime off of me.” 

“I know, but there’s still a missing boy we have to deal with,” she replied. “I’m hoping his mother can give us some real answers this time. I’m tired of the people here and how suspicious they are of anything that looks even vaguely different from them.” 

“Would you not be suspicious?” Octavia asked, eyebrow quirked. “The people here have endured so much hardship, I would think you’d expect it.” 

“I… yes, of course. I just mean, your child runs away and you think a witch stole him? Certainly, it’s a cause of alarm that a child is missing, but I don’t think any fey actually eat children, unless they’re jabberwocks.” 

“I’m sure we’ll find him soon enough. He probably just wandered off to play, or was sick of doing chores.” 

“Probably,” Elra said slowly. “We’ll go home along Candlemere and the rivers, just to be sure. Maybe someone has seen him.” 

“An excellent idea. Ooh, let’s grab some of this shrub, I think it’ll blend well.” 

Elra picked everything Octavia pointed out, lost in her own thoughts. She hadn’t actually solved any of the problems plaguing the land, and it seemed it may go deeper than expected. Lost fey villages, old enemies coming back to life, and trolls with brands that protected them from fire… Elra really just needed time to  _ think _ . To figure out what it all meant. 

“Elra, are you going to answer my question?” 

“Hmm?” 

Octavia was looking at her expectantly. She had set her load of shrubbery down to tie her hair back. “Has Tristian said anything to you or not?” 

“About…? Oh.” Elra blushed. “Erm, no, he hasn’t… mentioned anything. We’ve been too tired in the evenings to really talk.” At least, that’s what she told herself. Instead of that she was avoiding the conversation so she didn’t have to be inevitably rejected. “I mean it’s gone on long enough at this point, he mustn’t like me, right?”

“He said he’s spent most of his life in a temple, right?” Elra nodded. “Well, it’s not like Sarenrae is the goddess of promiscuity. He probably has no idea what’s what, let alone what to do if a woman likes him,” Octavia reasoned. 

“I just… I mean I certainly don’t want to push him, you’re right. But I’m being obvious, right?” Elra thought she was. Painfully so. The memory of that drunken evening haunted her almost every night right as she was falling asleep. 

Octavia giggled. “Yes, you are, but he’s  _ so _ oblivious. He needs it. I almost feel bad for him, actually.” 

“I’m not coming on too strong then? I think that might be it.” Elra couldn’t help say her thoughts out loud. “It’s not like I’m good at these sorts of things.” 

“What did you say to him the other day then? He was terribly red, I thought he might have been burned.” 

“I just told him he’s sweet when he blushes,” Elra answered awkwardly. “I don’t know what possessed me to say it.” 

Octavia cackled and regathered her supplies. “Oh, no wonder! He probably can’t think straight with you saying things like that to him.” Elra just blushed and stood up, arms full of branches. “I’m sure he’ll come around, and if he doesn’t, I’ll have a chat with him.” 

“Oh nooooo, no, please don’t,” Elra moaned. “That will for sure scare him off, I don’t need this to get any more awkward than it already is.” 

“Okay, if you say so,” Octavia said, winking at her. Elra rolled her eyes once her back was turned and they trudged back to camp. 

Amiri, Ekun, and the wolf were still not back from hunting. Valarie and Tristian had put together most of the camp by themselves, and Elra set down her bundle by the tents so Octavia could get to work. There wasn’t much for Elra to do other than get a fire going, so she excused herself to gather the driest wood she could find alone. 

All this awkward nonsense between herself and Tristian needed to stop. She had to put the needs of the barony over her own stupid wants. She needed him more as an advisor, a healer, and a friend. So far he hadn’t seemed inclined to leave, but what if she said something wrong next time? She just needed to drop it. There was no reason for him to like her any more than what he already offered. It was too late for her to apologize anyway - the event had occurred almost two months ago now. Best to let it drop unnoticed, then, if he hadn’t said anything by now.

Good gods she just wanted to lose herself in a good drink and sleep for a week. 

She took as long as she thought she could collecting wood. Any longer, and someone would go looking for her. She had managed to find a tree that had fallen too young, and while it was muddy, it would be serviceable. She drug it back to camp and began chopping it up. By the time she was done, the hunting party had returned and were glad for the fire she had built. 

“I’ll be glad to get out this bog, it’s way too soggy,” Amiri complained. “I can’t go two feet without stepping into some pool.” 

Elra didn’t have the heart in her to tease Amiri tonight. She instead kept quiet, collapsed on her bed roll, tending to the fire as needed. She was much more tired than she realized, and nearly fell asleep during the evening meal. She pulled her map out and poured over it, hoping that planning their route tomorrow would wake her brain up. After everyone began to settle down, she took her usual walk around the camp, at least twenty feet out from it, listening for threats. She glanced over at the camp and saw that Tristian was still awake, seating on one of the large rocks nearby. He was probably just praying. Elra walked slower than usual, trying to outlast him, hoping he would just go to bed soon. But she made two laps around camp and he was still awake. She sighed and gave up, hoping that maybe he would just ignore her. They hadn’t spoken a lot during their evening watch, only to discuss some barony affairs. 

She made her way back to the fire, tended it, then grabbed the map again from her pack before settling down on the damp log they had rolled over to be a bench. Judging from her notes, they were maybe a day and a half’s journey away from home, but probably two days. They should be fine to go due north and then follow the Murque river east to Candlemere and the Tuskwater, then-

“Elra?” 

She jerked her head up to see that Tristian was standing next to her. She hadn’t even heard him move. “Y-yeah?” she asked, still startled. 

“I don’t mean to interrupt you if you’re working, but I thought I might offer to take first watch tonight. You seemed very tired at dinner.” 

“Oh, I’m-I’m fine. Thank you, though. You should get some rest.” Instead of going to his bedroll like she expected, he sat down on the log beside her, giving her at least a few feet of space. 

“I will, at some point,” he said carefully. His hood was up, and Elra couldn’t tell where he was looking. She tried to busy herself with the map again, but it didn’t do anything to stifle the tension. They sat there for a long time, Elra pretending to study the map, Tristian looking into the fire, long enough that soon their companions breathing became relaxed as the rest of the camp found sleep. For all its faults and hardships, at least the Narlmarches offered soft ground to sleep on, when you could find some that was dry. 

Finally, Elra decided it was irresponsible to keep her eyes on the map, and put it away. It was pitch black out now too, making reading by firelight even more strenuous on her eyes. She made a move to stand up and do another walk, but Tristian finally spoke. 

“Elra, may I… take up a little of your time, before I go to sleep?” 

Her muscles tensed even further. She regretted eating dinner at all. Finally, he was going to tell her he wasn’t interested, that her appearance was too plain for him, that there were better rulers he could serve. Every single fear crashed over her as she tried to steady her breathing. 

“Sure, Tristian.” She didn’t look at him when she spoke. She couldn’t. But then he turned towards her, resting his knee on the log so he could face her fully, and she had to look. His golden eyes seemed a bit darker in the fire light, and tiny lines of tension had formed around his dark brows. He wet his lips before speaking again. 

“Please forgive me if I ramble, I’m not used to talking about such things,” he began. Elra braced herself for the words that would soon hurt her. Why was it so much harder to be cool and confident when it was just them? “I can’t get your words about… us… out of my mind. It’s like you… you want something more from me, and I can’t understand what it is.” 

They locked eyes, and Elra’s fear turned to confusion, then back to fear. Did he really not know what she meant by any of it? If she told him so, would he be disgusted with her? He seemed to be waiting for her to answer him, maybe to tell him what to do? “I’d… like for us to get to know each other better,” she answered slowly. She took a breath, fearing she had too little air. “I… I like you, Tristian.” 

The tension of him processing what she said was killing her. She’d almost rather throw herself in the bog than he dislike her. Finally, he let out a little awkward cough. “I’m afraid of disappointing you, Elra,” he said, breaking eye contact to look down at his hands. He was gripping the fabric of his trousers very tight. “I know very little about the feelings of mortals-my entire life has been devoted to serving Sarenrae. I’m… I’m afraid my… ignorance will push you away.” 

She could see the blush creeping onto his cheeks, and she couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped her lips. She felt stupid for being so afraid. Octavia was right. “Tristian, I like you just as you are.” When he glanced up at her, she gave him a shy grin. “I would hope you feel the same about me.” 

He leaned forward slightly, and her heart skipped a beat. This was the most open he had been with her in quite a while. Was he finally going to say it, out loud, that he returned even a tiny bit of her feelings?

Then the moment was broken. He leaned away again, and he was back to shyly looking away from her, examining his hands again. “I care about you, Elra. It hurts me to think we may have a fight.” His voice wavered, barely above a whisper. 

Elra let out another laugh. “A fight? What would we even fight about, Tristian?” 

He froze. “I… I don’t know.” He stood from the log, straightening out his robes. “I’ll leave you be, I’ve already wasted enough of your time.” He walked away before she could correct him to his bedroll on the other side of the fire, not looking back. 

Frustrated, she tried to focus all her energy on listening to the sounds of the swamp around them. She didn’t understand his reservations, and felt upset at herself for being selfish enough to wish he didn’t have them. Did he not trust her enough? Was he too anxious about what the future could hold? And his choice of words…  _ mortals _ , as if he wasn’t one. She tried to at least focus on the positive instead, that he cared about her, that at least he knew exactly how she felt. It was up to him then, if anything happened. So she should at least move on. 

She didn’t want to, but she needed to. 

* * *

‘ _ How many bloody trolls are in this place?’ _

Elra’s arms and hands moved through the air like she was performing a dance, slinging spell after spell at the trolls that barred their way down the hallway they needed to progress down. She could feel the well of magic in her draining bit by bit despite the adrenaline pumping through her. Valerie held off two of the trolls with a stalwart stance while Amiri was hacking and slashing away. The wolf had tripped one of them and was tearing into its skin. Ekun and Tristian peppered them with bow and crossbolt fire, and Octavia had found an excellent vantage point on some rubble where she could shoot acid over the heads of her companions. Elra was in the middle of all of it, doing her best to stay out of the swinging range of the trolls. The jets of acid she sent seemed to keep the trolls in plenty of pain as sword, axe, and fang dug into their thick hides. 

Her attention was captured as she heard the bellowing of “ _ Dur Borba! _ ” from down the hall they had just left, and the skittering of many tiny feet. Within moments, they were flanked on their right by another troll and a regiment of kobolds wielding bows. 

“Octavia, get down!” Elra yelled, rushing to meet the troll, little arrows peppering the stones where she had stood moments before. Octavia jumped down as Elra built a spell in her hands, thrusting her palms forward and sending a wave of flames over the troll and kobolds. The heat toppled a few of the small reptiles, but the troll just seemed irritated. 

“Dur Borba!” it cried out again, swinging down at her with his enormous club. She dodged to the side, calling up a magical shield on her left arm as a volley of kobold arrows streaked towards her. 

“Killllll,” came the hissing of the kobolds, and one toppled over as it was struck by a bolt right in the chest, a ripple of electricity crackling around it. Elra dodged back again as the troll advanced on her, swinging wildly. She loosed the wand hanging off her belt and whipped it through the air, sending a bolt of acid at the troll. It ducked and the acid sizzled into the stone wall behind it. Somewhere in the room, she heard the yelp of the wolf in pain, the furious screams of Amiri, the losing of arrows from a bowstring. 

The troll kept coming, kept advancing, and Elra was forced back further towards her teammates. She hardly had time to try and cast another spell when it swung again, and this time she didn’t duck fast enough. The club caught her in the upper left arm, crushing the bones and sending her reeling across the stone floor, the wand flung to the far side of the room. Disoriented, she tried to scramble to her feet, hardly feeling the burning pain of an arrow now lodged in her calf. Her left arm dangled uselessly as she stumbled up, the troll taking lumbering steps backwards as two arrows, glinting with acid, lodged in its chest. Elra blinked rapidly, seeing double the kobolds, as they took aim at something white and golden that moved towards her. 

Unable to muster another spell, Elra spun and threw herself in front of Tristian as several little arrows sunk into her back and legs. 

The world was dark and fuzzy as Elra struggled to breathe. Her legs could hardly support her, and she grabbed onto Tristian’s arm with her good hand, tugging them both off balance. All she could hear was her own gasping, rattling breath as blood began to fill one of her lungs. One of Tristian’s arms wrapped around her, supporting her. Behind her, something rocked the room and the warm lick of flames could be felt not feet away from them. Elra almost lost consciousness as the arrow piercing into her lung was pulled from her body. The next thing she knew, the spot was warm with quickly mending flesh, and she coughed up a considerable amount of blood. 

Slowly, she began to process noise again - the crunching of tiny bones, the shouting of arcane words, voices calling out “What happened?” and “Bar those doors!”, and the frantic chanting of prayer in her own ear as one of Tristian’s hands ran up her shattered arm. Elra groaned in pain as the bones righted themselves and mended together. Her legs shook, only held upright now by leaning against him and the arm he had wrapped tight around her waist. 

“I have you,” his voice said in her ear. “You’re safe.” 

Elra still coughed, but her vision was clearing. She felt warm blood spilling down her chin and soaking into the neckline of her robes. There was a pool of fresh blood splattered across the chest of Tristian’s robes. She looked up to see his hood had been knocked back, and his face was full of tense determination. His golden eyes were fixed upon hers. 

“Sorry,” she managed weakly. 

“Tristian, will she be alright?” Octavia asked somewhere beside them. 

“‘Course she will, the chief's tougher than nails.” 

“We need to move to somewhere more defensible.” 

Elra’s legs finally gave out, and Tristian guided her to kneeling on the floor. “I need to remove the arrows,” he said, still holding her close. “Can you lie down?” 

She tried to loosen her grip on his robe sleeve, but her muscles felt frozen in place. “I-I can’t move.” 

“Alright,” he said. “I will do what I can from here. This will hurt.” 

Elra nodded. She knew the pain of yanking out arrows, but that knowledge wouldn’t make it hurt less. Tristian worked as quickly as he could, one arm cradling her against him, the other healing as someone else pulled arrows from her back. Elra’s jaw hurt from clenching it tight, unwilling to make her cries heard by the larger group. She buried her face into Tristian’s shoulder, face wet with tears and blood. Finally, she was able to unclench her right hand, and she laid down while they dealt with the arrows in her calf and the back of her knee. She felt horribly cold when Tristian released her, guiding her to the floor. She shook there for a few moments, trying to control her breathing and the tears that flowed. 

Every spot where Tristian healed felt warm but ached horribly. She knew they were all standing around her, Tristian kneeling by her side. Nothing was more wounded than her pride as she laid there, wishing she didn’t have to face her friends after this shit show. But she finally sighed and pushed herself to kneeling with shaky arms, dull pain in the left side of her body. 

“I’m sorry, everyone,” she said, voice crackly. “Let’s… let’s continue, I’m fine now-”

“No,” said the deep voice of Ekun, just to her right. “You told me to rest when I hunted trolls. Now, I say the same to you.” 

“We have to,” she replied, feeling her resolve crumble. “Tartuk will keep sending forces.” 

“We can hide somewhere,” Octavia suggested. “Let them think we’ve retreated, they might let their guard down.” 

“I say we plow through ‘em,” Amiri said. “As soon as you can stand, we blast them out into the open with that alchemist fire stuff, and take that troll king’s head.” 

“Valerie?” Elra asked, looking up at her. 

“I will follow your orders,” she stated. “But we can still gain some advantage from resting.” 

“Tristian?” 

He was silent for a long moment. “We should rest. There are many wounds I need to heal, and you will only put yourself in further danger by fighting in this condition.” 

“Alright,” Elra said. “We’ll hole up somewhere safe for a bit. Rethink our plan.”

“There was a room we passed a while ago that should do,” Octavia said. “One of those hidden ones?” 

“We don’t want to get trapped somewhere. Let’s do some scouting.” 

Elra struggled to her feet, Octavia helping her. Carefully, the group crept back through the rooms of slaughtered kobolds and trolls, looking for one that would suit their needs. From deeper within the keep, they heard the stomping feet of trolls looking for them. Finally, they decided on a room with only two entrances - one into the keep and one out onto a balcony that overlooked the Narlmarches. Elra felt useless as everyone began setting up a resting spot, each taking over a task Elra normally did. She slumped against the wall, weak from just the walk to this room. Perhaps it was good they were resting. 

She chewed down some of her dried ration as Ekun and Amiri barricaded the door that led further into the keep. Elra pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, shivering against the cold of the stone at her back. She felt horribly guilty, halting their assault on the troll stronghold like this. Surely Tartuk and the troll king would put together a search for them, or strengthen their defenses. Their only hope was the pair deciding the party had fled. 

Before she could really get to strategizing, she must have nodded off to sleep. The next thing she knew was Octavia gently waking her and urging her into her bedroll, already laid out for her. She didn’t argue, and fell into another fitful sleep. 

* * *

Elra awoke sharply, heart racing. It took her a few moments to realize she was lying on a cold stone floor instead of falling through darkness into a pool of blue light. There was an unusual amount of weight on her, keeping her warm. Her body was stiff and her neck hurt as she tried to lift herself. It took her eyes a few minutes to adjust to the dim grey light in the room, let in by the door to the outside that was opened a sliver. Everyone around her was asleep. She sat up, stretching her tired muscles. There was a second blanket draped on her, dark blue. She frowned, looking around the bodies of her sleeping companions. One bedroll was unoccupied, just a thin pad and a pack that had been used as a pillow, but she couldn’t tell whose it was. 

Gingerly, Elra stood, stretched again, then folded the other blanket. She wrapped herself in her own blanket, stepped over Valerie, set the blue blanket down on the empty bedroll, then tiptoed over to the cracked door. She slowly opened it and slipped outside into the crisp air of dawn. 

Tristian was standing a few feet down the outlook, head bent and hands clasped in prayer. Elra shut the door behind her, hoping to give her friends a little more time to rest. Pulling her blanket closer around her shoulders, Elra took hesitant steps towards him. She stopped a few steps away and looked out over the Narlmarches. The sun had not yet risen over the horizon, and the morning mists made the pale light silvery. They could see for miles here on the hill, overlooking the endless trees of the marsh. Tristian’s hands eventually dropped, and his head raised to look out over the trees, movements slow. They stood quietly together for a few moments. Elra wished she could see his expression. She felt something heavy in the air between them.

“Did you give me your blanket, Tristian?” she asked, voice rough from sleep. 

“You were sleeping fitfully when I awoke for my watch,” he replied, his voice tinged with gloom. “I thought you might be cold.”

“Thank you. I put it back on your bedroll.” He nodded his head. “Who took first watch?” 

“Amiri offered.” 

Elra made a little noise of agreement. A bit of shame crept back into her mind, remembering the stupid decision she had made yesterday. 

“How are you feeling today?” he asked, turning his head to look at her. His pale face was coated in shadows, and Elra could plainly see the trouble in his golden eyes. Something about him seemed… deflated. 

“Just sore,” she replied, giving him a small smile. “Thanks to you, the worst ailment I have is a stiff neck from sleeping on a stone floor.” 

“Well, that’s better than the alternative,” he said, lips twitching into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. 

“It is. Thank you,” she said. She wished she could grab his hand and squeeze it tight. “Tristian, are you alright? You seem… down.” 

He looked away and turned his attention back to the cold dawn. When he answered, his words came slowly. “All my life was devoted to the great goddess… the radiant Sarenrae. Life without her is… life without sunlight. I do not choose to love her or not…” He paused. “Love for her is in my nature. But here, among… other mortals…” He let out a little sigh, breath fogging briefly on the chilled air. “I keep hearing about another kind of love. One that is given away, like some material possession, and taken away again. It seems so… short lived? Unreliable? I-I struggle to find the right word.” 

Elra was not expecting a philosophical discussion about the nature of love to be the first thing on her list for the day, and took a few moments to think over what he said. “Tristian, there are many different kinds of love,” she started. “And you can experience them at the same time. Your love for Sarenrae is different than say… the love between friends, or between a parent and child.” She turned and leaned against the cold stone half wall, tilting her head to see his face. He was frowning in confusion. “That doesn’t make one worse than the other. Is one freely given somehow lesser than one you have no control over?” 

After a moment, he looked at her again, his expression a riddle to her. “Probably not,” he admitted. “I just have very little experience with these things. I’m trying not to judge things before I understand them.” He gave a little smile, like he was telling a private joke. “At least, I think I’m not…” 

Elra’s instinct was to immediately ask him, jokingly of course, if he never had friends or parents before. She stopped herself, not wanting to open up an unknown sore spot if one existed. Tristian had been very quiet about his past, only that he had spent almost all his life until now in a temple to Sarenrae. Perhaps he didn’t know his parents? Perhaps he didn’t have time for true friendships in the temple? 

Some of the shadows were beginning to lighten on his face as the dawn crept through the mist. Elra thought she saw him catch his breath before he spoke again. “May I ask you a… a personal question?” 

Elra tried to keep her voice and posture calm while her heart beat furiously in her chest. “Ask away,” she answered cooly. 

He still held her gaze, though his voice faltered a little. “How do you… how do you choose the… the one you can trust? Do you follow your heart? Listen to reason? I’m afraid I-I don’t know, and I’m desperate to understand.” 

Was he… really asking her for relationship advice? He truly puzzled her. She had been so plain with him not two weeks ago. She felt bad, like guiding him would be manipulating him. She struggled with her answer, and decided that emphasizing that her advice was not the only answer would have to do. “For me… well, I don’t pretend to be a woman of perfect logic. Personally, I… I think it best, in matters of love, to follow your heart. I can’t pretend I’ve never been led astray, but… my heart and instinct are at the center of all my choices.” Saying it out loud felt frivolous, and like she was breaking so many rules. Shouldn’t a ruler be full of logic and calculations? 

He nodded, seeming to be more thoughtful than gloomy now. “Of course. You… you are always so sincere. It makes sense.” 

“You should… you should do what feels right for you, Tristian,” she said. She turned back around as the sun was breaking into a golden light, brightening the world around them. She breathed in deeply, planting her palms on the wall now. “It’s beautiful, don’t you think? The Narlmarches.” 

“Yes, it is.” 

“The golden mist is so… enchanting. You’d hardly think there were monsters down there.” 

“It’s… yes. Enchanting is a good word.” 

She glanced over when she saw the quick movement of him looking out and away from her. Her cheeks flushed. 

“Tristian, I-” She wanted to tell him how much she enjoyed his company. How his unfailing kindness had touched something deep in her soul. How his direct attention to her made her fumble her words in a way she hadn’t experienced before. How she enjoyed teasing him to see the blush on his face, how much she wanted to kiss him… “I’m sorry about yesterday. And your robes. I’ve been trying to be more careful, I swear, I just… I made a rash decision, and it might have cost us a real win against Tartuk.” It was so much easier to speak of tactics than matters of the heart. 

“Robes can be cleaned,” he chuckled. “Elra, you saved my life… again. I am incurring quite a debt to you.” 

“I-I just… I know I said I would stop being so reckless. I’m not trying to… I broke my promise to you.” 

“Elra.” His gentle voice sent a shiver down her spine. “No one is upset with you, least of all me. I simply… I don’t like to see you in pain. Had I not been there...” He turned his head to look at her again. “Elra, you… you could have died, doing what you did.” His eyes trailed down her arm that had been shattered just a half day before. “You almost did,” he whispered. 

“I didn’t think about it,” she answered, head bowed. “I just saw the kobolds aiming… I couldn't think straight at all… I just reacted.” She gripped the stone under her fingers. “I feel like I’m failing you all as a leader. I should be taking care of you all, and instead you just take care of me.” 

He let out a soft laugh. “Elra, you are mistaken. You have said many times we are a team. We must all look out for each other. We tend to each other. No one expects you to be perfect, nor do they think you expect the same from them.” She looked to see him smiling at her again. “You are strong. Not many would, or could, be knocked down so many times, just to get back up and keep fighting.” 

She blushed. “You think too highly of me.” 

“Not at all,” he answered. “And as for Tartuk… we shall find a way to deal with him. You are very good at improvising.” 

He looked down at the wall again. Their hands were planted on the stone mere inches away from each other. Elra’s breath was short as she watched him lift his hands, hesitating. His right hand floated close to her left, but then withdrew at the last second. 

“Thank you for speaking to me, Elra,” he said. “I-I cherish every moment together. I hope my questions are not a burden.” 

Now it was Elra who couldn’t look at him, the blush spreading all over her face. “N-no, they aren’t. They never are.” 

A moment passed, and then he stepped past her and into the room where the others slept. She stayed outside a few moments longer, hoping that the cool air would calm her overheated skin.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some backstory is revealed, Octavia and Linzi know quite a lot, and Tristian is at war with his own feelings

Tristian opened the teleportation portal, his task done. Nyrissa’s plan with the flower had come to fruition, much as he had dreaded when he had planted it a long time ago. The seeds would soon be flowing into the river. He was filled with absolute disgust with himself, at his own cowardice. But no mortal could imagine the sway Nyrissa held over him. It was impossible to get away from her. 

He stepped through the glowing golden portal and found himself back in his room at the capital. He was one of the few companions who had chosen to take up Elra’s offer to stay in rooms in the keep, though there was enough room for everyone. He was just down the hall from Elra, only four rooms away. Valerie and Linzi were in a different wing on the opposite side. He could have easily stayed away, in his own house in the capital like the others. But he was weak of will, and found himself staying as close to her as he dared. 

There was a knock on his door that startled him out of his thoughts. “Tristian? Are you there?” 

He froze for a moment. Why was Elra seeking him, so late in the evening? It was several hours after dinner now, at least.

“Uh, y-yes?” he stammered, filled with fear. Had she found out what he had done? 

“Can I, er, come in?” 

“Yes?” 

The door opened slowly and Elra slipped inside, closing it behind her. She was carrying a bundle of cloth in her arms. She looked at him and cocked her head to the side. 

“Are you alright? I didn’t catch you at a bad time, did I?” 

“Uh, n-no, you didn’t.” He wished he could just collect his own thoughts and control himself. “Is something wrong, Your Grace?” 

Her face soured a little. “Just Elra. And no, nothing’s wrong. I just came to find you after dinner but you weren’t here, so I thought I’d try again before I went to bed and forgot.” 

“Ah,” he said, taking in a deep breath. He chose his words carefully. “We must have just missed each other then.” 

She shrugged. “Seems so. Anyways, it’s nothing much, but here.” She crossed to him and handed him the bundle. “We have a court tailor now, and I asked them to make everyone court wear.” Her face was pink. “I know it’s a bit… frivolous, but if people are going to take the barony seriously, we should at least look the part when we’re doing the official bits, right?” 

He smiled at her. “Well, let’s see what you’ll be having me wear.” He laid out the clothing carefully on his bed, the soft fabrics flowing gently in his hand. The set of robes were dyed a light blue, with golden embroidery of both the radiant sun of Sarenrae and a bird bursting into flames, the symbol of the barony. Tristian’s fingers traced the beautiful threadwork. 

“I hope you like it,” Elra said, apprehensive beside him. “I had them take measurements from some of your old robes, so it should fit.” 

“They’re beautiful. Thank you.” He turned to face her, his heart panging with guilt. “You are… quite thoughtful.” Here he was, repaying her kindness by sabotaging her lands and people, yet again. “Are these your robes then?” he asked, gesturing to the garb she wore. 

“Oh! Yes,” she said, looking down and holding her hands out. “What do you think? Do they suit me or do I just look silly?” 

Her hair was shining in the firelight. The deep purple robes looked luxurious, even to Tristian’s untrained eye, finely tailored to her body, the gold and silver embroidery of flames seeming to move as she did. “You look...” Radiant. Beautiful. “Like a true ruler.” 

She laughed, eyes sparkling. “You don’t have to lie, I won’t mind if you think I’m ridiculous.” 

“N-no, Elra, I…” His heart fell deeper into gloom. “I would never speak a lie to you.” But he could omit vital information from her. 

“Oh, Tristian, I was just teasing you,” she said, voice serious now. She caught his gaze. “I’m sorry.” 

“Forgive me,” he whispered. “I… I still have trouble with… mortal humor, sometimes.” He had to actively remind himself to breathe. The last time she was this close to him she was collapsing in his arms, fighting to draw breath, clinging to him as if he was her lifeline, her warm blood quickly turning cold on his chest… 

“You keep using that word,” she said, chuckling slightly. She looked up at him through a frame of pale red lashes. “Like you aren’t a mortal yourself.” Her lips turned up in a sly smile, as if she knew his secret. 

“I… I am, of course,” he said, his mournful tone betraying him a little. “It’s just a… distinction I am used to from… from the temple.” Not technically a lie, but not the truth either. He wished he didn’t have to speak this way to her. 

Her brow furrowed. “Tristian, please, is something wrong? You… you can tell me, if it helps.” 

How he wanted to. He wanted to tell her everything, all his secrets, reveal his lies, the complicated feelings she invoked in him. But… “It’s nothing,” he sighed, trying to give her a smile. “It will pass.” 

She studied him carefully, as if she was deciding what to say next, trying to read his mind. “If… if you’re sure,” she finally said, frowning. “Just… you can always speak to me about your problems. I won’t pass judgement on you, whatever it is. Everyone deserves to have someone they can work these things through with.” 

“Thank you, Elra. I will… I will keep that in mind.” 

She stepped away from him, and he wanted to reach out to her, pull her back to him. He clasped his hands tightly together instead. “Goodnight then, Tristian. I hope you feel better in the morning.” 

He bowed his head towards her. “Goodnight, Your Grace.” 

He smiled slightly at the little huff she made as she left. He didn’t need to see her face to know that she had rolled her eyes at him. Most mortals would be honored with a title, yet Elra continued to surprise him. After she had closed the door again, he let himself drop into the cushioned chair at his desk and stare at the papers scattered across it. There was so much he had to do - kingdom matters that needed attending, rumors about Elra that needed putting down, tasks Nyrissa had set him, plans for how to counter the destruction he had helped unleash… and of course, he still didn’t understand his urges or feelings around Elra. Despite all his introspections, despite knowing that she liked him, he still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around everything. Their exchanges. The way she, who was so confident and brave, stuttered her words at times when they spoke alone together. Did he feel the kind of love he had heard about, seen between people of the barony? Did he have the courage to pursue something so fleeting, knowing that eventually, their time together would end? 

Perhaps he should speak to another mortal about such things, and not Elra. He had bothered her enough with questions. Her patience would not be limitless. If he could just describe how he felt, someone might be able to tell him simply what it was. Then at least he could move forward from there. He spent at least another hour devising a plan of how to approach one of the others, perhaps Octavia, or Linzi. They seemed the best option. He resolved to ask them sometime soon, when the moment presented itself. 

* * *

‘ _ Bring your Elra Ironfist to my Kingdom. My Faithful will deal with her. _ ’

Tristian had been hesitant to bring Elra to a meeting of the Kingdom of Cleansed. He knew she was a fierce fighter, but who knows how many followers would be there? He must do what Nyrissa said, there was no way around that. But… he just had to bring her there. He could do his utmost to protect her. Nyrissa hadn’t said anything against that. He was nearly sick with guilt though at the mere thought of bringing her into this obvious trap. 

He wanted to keep her safe. She was important to him. 

He wished she had just refused him when he asked her to go alone with him to this remote meeting point, at night no less. It was several hours' journey away, almost an entire day of walking. He wished she had said she was too busy, or she would bring the others with her. Instead, she agreed right away, as he knew she would, and his heart sank deeper. The bitterness at himself he had been feeling for the past few months only intensified. He hardly slept or ate. It was such an intense feeling, one that he had never felt before, but he at least knew its name and cause. The only thing that might relieve him from this was surrendering himself to Elra, confessing everything, and facing her and Nyrissa’s wrath, which were likely to kill him. A small part of him hoped Elra could have mercy upon him. 

But he was too cowardly to face the option, so he continued his tortured mortal existence. 

They had spoken a little on the road this morning on barony matters. It would have been awkward not to, since their path across the Kamelands was easy. They spoke on the Bloom, and theories that he and Jhod had on its manifestation. If he presented hints now and then as insights rather than sprinkling clues, he could lead them in the right direction. He wanted Elra to resolve the Bloom as quickly as possible and save the barony, but he couldn’t share too much information too fast. Nyrissa believed herself invincible against the trifling mortal sorceress. But the more time he spent with her, fought with her, laughed with her, stayed up on watch with her… he couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, she had a chance. 

They found the site of the meeting late in the afternoon, and decided to retrace their steps by about half an hour to rest. Elra rightfully didn’t want to just camp out on the hill and wait. Tristian spent almost the entirety of the three hours they rested praying to Sarenrae, praying for forgiveness for what he had done, the trap he was about to lead them into, and that she would protect Elra from harm. Elra didn’t bother him, just set herself up twenty or so feet away, back against a tree as she read through the bundle of letters and reports she had brought with her. She was constantly working every time Tristian saw her, even at meals. The effects of the Bloom were threatening to overwhelm, and Elra was attending to the matters with such persistence, such intensity that Tristian was impressed. Other mortal rulers, he reasoned, would be at least concerned with the riots that would surely follow, but Elra was of a singular mind to protect her people. 

Finally, the sun had nearly set in the sky, and they set off again for the hill where the meeting would be. Tristian illuminated their path with a little ball of soft light that floated above their heads. The twilight triggered something in him, pushing him to want to talk to her. Their conversations in the dark always seemed the most honest, and whether to further his guilt or satisfy his curiosity, he finally commented, “Elra… your family name, Ironfist… it seems rather dwarvish in nature.”

“Er, yeah, it is,” she answered. She kept her eyes ahead on the path. 

“But you are human.” 

“Yeah.” 

He glanced at her, trying to discern her mood. “Forgive me, it’s a personal matter. I was just curious.” 

After a few moments, she sighed. “It’s… it’s alright. It was bound to come up at some point…” She was quiet again for long enough that he thought he might have insulted her. “It’s… my family is from a village in northern Brevory. It’s primarily dwarvish. My grandfather adopted the last name when he came there to learn blacksmithing.” 

“I see.” He paused, trying to decide if he wanted to continue to pursue the subject. “And… what brought you south to Restov?” 

He watched her expression tighten and regretted the question. “I had no choice,” she said quietly, keeping her eyes firmly on the road. 

“I’m-I’m sorry, I-”

“No, it’s fine. You might as well know.” She took a deep breath, as if to steady herself. “My father took up blacksmithing as well, and trained me in it when I showed an interest.” He watched a crooked smile form on her face. “I didn’t have any aptitude in the usual things girls did anyways.” The smile faded. “He… he died a few years ago. The whole village was burned to the ground by some people, slavers, I think. I was one of the few that escaped.” She looked down, watching her feet as they tread upon the dirt path. “I… I had only just discovered I could do magic. He was saving up money to send me to an academy…” 

“Elra, I’m… I’m so sorry.” 

“I went south trying to find someone who would take me on as an assistant, but I never had much luck. I did go to an academy in Restov for a year or so, but I couldn’t afford it after that. And then I… I stumbled into that meeting at the Aldori’s. I had heard so much about the Swordlords, I honestly thought that it was something to do with recruitment for one of their academies.” She laughed. “And look at me now. Daughter of a blacksmith from a village snuffed off the map, accidentally a baroness.” 

Tristian’s heart felt heavy with guilt, sadness, and something else. He just wanted to comfort her, wipe that expression off her face, like she was looking at ghosts instead of the road. “It is no accident,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. This, also, was true, to an extent. “You have forged your own path. It takes a great deal of courage to do, and skill to build what you have.” 

She finally looked at him, seeming to be shaken from her trance. “I… thank you, Tristian. It’s been… well, difficult. It feels some days like I shouldn’t be here, that I don’t deserve it.” 

The words were a struggle to get out as Tristian felt a wave of self loathing wash over his heart. “Of course you deserve it. You work very hard for your people. I know ruling must not be easy, but you… you carry it with grace. And… I am glad you feel safe to confide in me your struggles. You should not have to bear them alone.” 

She finally shook her head and let out a small laugh. “Well, I can’t argue with you using my own words against me.” Her smile this time reached her eyes. “I am very glad to have people like you to confide in, Tristian.” 

He turned away so she wouldn’t see the pain on his face. 

“I can see light on the hilltop. Hope we aren’t late for our induction,” she joked. 

He let out a mirthless laugh. “We wouldn’t want to miss it, I’m sure.” 

“I do hate making bad first impressions.” 

* * *

Tristian found that there was no good time to actually talk to Octavia or Linzi, his chosen sources of information. So he found himself walking quickly after Octavia as she left the throne room one evening, pursuing her out into the street. 

“Octavia, I--can I ask you some questions?”

She stopped and turned, eyebrow cocked. “Yes Tristian? Did I forget to sign something for you or…?” 

“No, it’s… a more personal matter.” He could not help the color rising on his cheeks.

“Oh, I see,” she said shrewdly. Something about the sharpness of her smile unsettled him. “And what sort of personal matter would have you chasing after me?”

“I need… someone with your… expertise? I believe that’s the word I’m searching for.” 

She took a step closer to him, twirling a strand of warm brown hair between her fingers. “What sort of expertise is that?” she asked coyly. 

“You and Regongar are… in a relationship, yes?” He felt stupid having to ask this. He tried not to look into her piercing blue eyes, fearing the amusement that lay there. 

“Of a kind, yes.” Her voice was airy, full of some joke Tristian didn’t seem to get. 

“You are well versed in… the ways of the heart then?” 

Octavia let out a laugh, loud enough that a few nearby people gave them looks. “Oh Tristian, you poor thing. You are even more clueless than I thought.” 

He frowned. “I… what?”

“Come on,” she said, hooking her arm around his elbow and taking off down the street with him. “Let’s get a drink, I think Linzi is at the tavern.” 

Tristian completely lost the will to argue with her, too confused with what was happening. At least he could talk to them both at the same time. Surely the more people who helped solve his problem, the sooner it would be resolved? 

Elina’s was busy and noisy as it always was in the evenings. Above all the noise though, Tristian could hear Amiri, deeply invested in a drinking contest with a few laborers from around the capital. She had three more empty tankards in front of her than the men opposite her. Tristian’s nose wrinkled at the overwhelming smell of beer and ale as Octavia navigated herself up to the bar, bought a bottle of wine, and steered him over to a corner table where Linzi was set up. She had taken over the entire table to herself, notes and drawings strewn about it. Tristian had to admit there was a quiet elegance to her sketch work, instantly recognizing a very regal drawing of Elra, spinning fire about her like a dancer. 

“Hold up, I’m just…” Linzi said, not looking up at them as they approached. Her tongue stuck out her mouth as she finished her scribbling with a flourish. “There! Alright, what--oh! I didn’t expect to see you in a tavern, Tristian.” 

He blushed, but Octavia spoke first. “He needs advice only a bard can give, Linzi,” she said, a smirk on her face. 

“Of course!” Linzi said, corking her ink bottle and starting to gather the papers hastily. “Sit down!” 

Octavia took the seat across from the bard, and Tristian was forced to sit between them, wishing his back was to the wall instead of the whole establishment. Octavia poured them all goblets full of wine, setting the bottle as far away from Linzi’s work as she could. 

“Alright Tristian, how can I be of service?” Linzi asked, a wide smile on her face. 

“The poor dear is absolutely hopeless,” Octavia said in a mockingly mournful tone. “If he keeps carrying on like this, I don’t know if the world will survive the terrible, longing poetry he’ll write.” 

“Oh, this is about how he won’t admit his feelings for Elra, isn’t it?” 

Tristian choked and coughed on his wine. “I… I’m sorry?” 

Linzi gave him a knowing smile, swapping glances with Octavia. “Oh come on, we’ve noticed, Tristian.” 

“Noticed… what?” He wasn’t sure if he was trying to be level headed, or just confused. What about his interactions with Elra had they noticed? 

Octavia sighed. “You don’t have to lie to us, Tristian. We want to help you.” 

“I… ” But he couldn’t find the words to say. It was like his mind had been wiped. 

“Let’s start over,” Linzi said, coming to the rescue. “From the top. What did you want to ask me about, Tristian?” 

He slowly tried to piece together his thoughts. “I wanted to talk to both of you,” he began. “You both seem the most… knowledgeable about… mortal feelings.” 

The two women shared a giggle. “Mortal feelings like what?” Linzi asked. 

“I… I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I was hoping you could help me name them.” 

It was like they were having a conversation without him. They seemed to understand some concept that was obvious. 

“It  _ is _ about Elra though, right?” Octavia was trying to encourage him, swirling her goblet a little. 

“...Yes.” A wave of relief flowed over him as he said the word out loud. He glanced between them; both seemed to be waiting for him to continue. He tried to gather his courage. “I have never… been affected like this before, by another person.”

“How’s that?” Linzi asked. Her hands were fidgeting, spinning her quill between her fingers, as if she longed to write down everything he said. 

“I...” He had to pause and swallow down a mouthful of wine. “It’s very odd. I am mostly… confused. Her presence is so strong, I feel flustered when I talk to her. Everything about her is overwhelming. I can’t… I have trouble making cohesive thoughts around her. I don’t understand why…” He had to take another drink of wine. “Surely it is normal to feel a little nervous around such a powerful noblewoman?” He left off with a question, hoping it would be enough to get the answers he sought. He wasn’t sure how much more of this his nerves could take. 

Octavia though made a motion for him to continue. So he took another shaky breath. “I simply don’t…” He stopped again. 

“How often do you think about her?” Linzi asked innocently. 

“Q-quite often,” he admitted before he could stop himself. “It’s consuming. It doesn’t feel… normal.” 

The women shared a conspiratorial smirk. “Oh, it’s quite normal, Tristian,” Octavia said nonchalantly, “if you’re in love.” 

Love again. Elra had said there were different kinds… “What… kind of love?” His face must be very red. 

“Romance, of course!” Linzi said, eyes bright. “You know, the one true love, happily ever after, that kind of thing!”

“Romance,” Tristian repeated to himself. “Is that… what I feel?” 

Octavia shrugged. “It could be, Tristian. But we can’t tell you what you feel. Only you can do that.” 

Back to the unhelpful advice. Elra’s answer had been similar. “I don’t have, ah, experience in these things, to know what to do.” Maybe he could guide them back into speaking plainly? 

“Well, obviously you tell her how you feel,” Linzi said. “Bring her out to the garden at midnight, confess everything to her, ooh maybe bring her a flower, or something else pretty!” The halfling’s expression became dreamy, like she was picturing the scene. 

The garden at midnight?  _ Tell her how he felt? _ “But I… I don’t…” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know what’s… what’s expected of me.” 

He watched Octavia raise an eyebrow to Linzi, who beamed. “I know! I can lend you a book!” 

“A book?” he asked, finally feeling hopeful. Surely a book would be more straightforward. “A book that will… explain things? The… the passions?” He whispered the last word, afraid he would be overheard in the crowded tavern. 

“Oh yes,” Linzi said, smirking. “Oh, I have just the book for you. It’ll answer all your questions, I’m sure.” She took a long drink of wine. “I’ll give it to you tonight in fact!” 

“Which book?” Octavia asked. 

“ _ Nights in Katapesh _ .”

Octavia giggled. “Ooh, oh yes, that would do nicely.” 

“So you both recommend this treatise?” Tristian asked almost too eagerly. Finally, a simple solution. He should have thought of looking in a book a long time ago. 

“It’ll teach you everything you need to know, I guarantee it,” Linzi said, hurrying to finish her drink. “Whenever you’re done, I’ll walk back with you to the keep.” 

“I… I am,” he said, pushing the half drunk wine away from him. Octavia shrugged and poured the wine into her own cup. “If you’re ready…?” 

“Absolutely,” Linzi said, and they all rose from the table. Octavia bade them goodnight as she wandered over to where Regongar was in a heated, drunken conversation with a young looking lad. 

Romance. Love. Tristian felt entirely out of his depth with these words. But if it’s really what he was feeling for Elra… she had said she liked him. She, too, seemed to fumble her words some times, but not nearly as often as he did. She spoke her mind so easily, capturing people with her charm and wit. Perhaps she felt the same way…? 

It was a dangerous game he played. Guilt clenched his heart, a familiar feeling these past few months. No, he could not tell her how he felt. If she felt similarly, it was wrong to do this to her. At some point, he assumed, the truth would come out. It would shatter him, and he had no idea how she would react. But complicating their feelings for each other would surely make it worse. 

As he and Linzi entered the keep for the evening, he swore he would read the book, but only to understand and tame his feelings. He had to control himself. If only for her sake. 

* * *

The screeching of a messenger bird drew everyone’s attention as they walked through the twilight along the river. Their new… companion, of sorts, Nok-Nok, let out a cry of glee. 

“Tasty bird has come down for dinner! Nok-Nok will make great meal for weaklings,” he said, drawing a knife as it landed on Elra’s arm. 

“No, Nok-Nok, this isn’t for dinner,” she said dismissively. “But we’ll stop soon and then you can show us your great cooking skills.” She took the small scroll from the bird’s leg and unfurled it with a frown. Tristian tried not to stare as Elra read the note, instead examining how his companions were reacting to their new goblin guide. Valerie threw looks of disgust at the creature, and Ekun watched Nok-Nok with a close eye. Amiri seemed to make it a point to ignore him. Only Octavia seemed, at the moment, curious and amused with him. 

“It’s from Kesten,” Elra said, the frown still on her face. “He’s found the goblin fort, and needs reinforcements. Lucky we were already headed that way, I guess.” She glanced up at the sky. “Nok-Nok, how much further is the fort?” 

“Hmmmm,” the goblin replied. “Longshanks walk faster than tribe. Usually take a day to reach fort for Nok-Nok.”

Everyone was quiet as they waited for Elra to make a decision. “Let’s… let’s pause here so I can write him back. We’ll travel until we have to stop, and then get up at dawn. Let’s hope it’s quick enough.” 

Octavia set to digging the writing utensils out of Elra’s pack for her while Tristian conjured a light over her head. He held out his arm so the messenger bird would rest on him instead. Elra gave Tristian a small smile as he did, one that made his stomach twist and his heart race. He fought with himself, diverting his eyes to the darkening sky. 

They waited for a few minutes while Elra scrawled a note back to Kesten. Tristian couldn’t help but glance at it, standing right next to her. He wondered how Kesten was going to read it - her penmanship was awful. But before he could really decipher what she wrote, she waved the parchment around to dry the ink, then rolled it back up and attached it to the bird’s leg. The bird took off and flew east - their destination as well. 

“Well, let’s try and push on,” Elra said. “Thanks for lighting the way, Tristian.” 

Only when Octavia yawned did they stop, an hour after sunset. They found a rocky outcropping along the river that would serve for good protection on at least one side. By lantern light, they began to set up camp. Tristian busied himself helping to gather firewood with Valerie; Nok-Nok ran off after Amiri and Ekun as they left to scavenge; and Octavia and Elra began setting up tents. The air was cold and crisp, and Tristian prayed that it wouldn’t snow on them tonight. There were a few too many clouds over their heads for his liking. 

Thankfully during dinner, Nok-Nok scarfed his food down quickly before setting out to find the perfect bush to sleep in. Perhaps he would be a good alarm if something unfriendly approached the camp. Only Amiri and Octavia spoke, arguing over personal grooming habits as if the rest of them weren’t there. Valerie mended one of Ekun’s shirts, stitching diligently. Elra looked troubled, frowning into the fire most of the evening. Tristian wished he could say something to her to lift her spirits, but nothing particular convincing came to mind. There had been so much weighing on her lately, and he wasn’t good at telling jokes. Perhaps later, he would ask if she would like to tell him… no. He promised himself he wouldn’t meddle with her feelings anymore. It would only prove to harm her in the future. 

Absent-mindedly, Tristian dug through his pack, and his fingers brushed against the hardened leather of a book cover. Frowning, he brought it out and peaked inside the front cover -  _ Nights in Katapesh _ . He had completely forgotten about the book he had borrowed from Linzi in the madness of everything. There was only the gold lettering along the spine to let anyone know what he was reading, and that could easily be hidden. No one was paying him any attention… he decided it might be alright if he called it an early night. He grabbed his pack and slipped off to the tent that he and Elra traded off using. Elra hadn’t brought her pack in yet, so he laid out his things, conjured a soft light over his head, and settled down to read. 

Tristian had read many great works of literature, and this was certainly not one of them. The writing was trite - it spent too long describing the two main characters, a noblewoman and a barbarian, and with details that he didn’t need to understand the story. There didn’t seem to be a discernible plot either, other than the barbarian was supposed to escort the noblewoman, and the noblewoman was not faithful to her betrothed. Tristian frowned heavily. How was this book supposed to help him? There were no instructions here. Should the passion not be between the two people who were supposed to get married? And certainly, he knew from an objective standpoint the generalities of making love, but this seemed so… forceful? Uncaring? Occasionally his mind wandered off to Elra, trying to imagine himself doing something in the text. But he could no more picture throwing Elra onto or into anything, much less a bed, than he could imagine what “desire in her voice” sounded like. Perhaps he should get out a quill and some parchment to take notes. Linzi gave him this for a reason, she must be able to answer his questions-

“What are you reading?” 

He jerked his head up so fast his hood flew right off. Elra had managed to crawl into the tent with her pack without him hearing her and was sitting cross-legged, facing him, knees but a few inches from his own. She had an eyebrow raised and the first real smile on her face he had seen in a few days. 

“E-Elra, I-I didn’t hear you come in.” He snapped the book shut and turned the spine towards himself. 

“Must be a very engrossing book,” she said, expression playful. 

“It… erm… h-how long have I been reading?” 

“Long enough that everyone else has fallen asleep,” she laughed. “I just came in to check on you, make sure you didn’t have a flame going while you were passed out.” 

Tristian managed an awkward laugh, but couldn’t think of anything else to say. How guilty he felt now, looking at her, after imagining such… lustful things. Especially after promising himself he wouldn’t complicate this any further. His face grew hot. 

“Well?” she asked. “Are you going to tell me or will I just have to read it myself?”

He gripped the book tightly in his lap. He wanted so badly not to tell her, but the way she laughed, grinned at him… it felt nice to see her like this. “It’s some… treatise that Liniz lent me after I asked her for advice. She said it was the best you could get on… on the passions.” His whole body felt on fire as he couldn’t look at her anymore, eyes darting down to his pale hands, gripping the cover like a lifeline. 

She stifled a giggle with her hand. “The passions?” Her question was whispered, and Tristian shivered as if someone had breathed on his neck. 

“I… I think I just don’t u-understand literature,” he confessed. How desperately he just wanted an explanation to how he felt. But asking Elra might betray something that he himself didn’t understand. 

“May I?” she asked, and held out a hand towards him. He hesitated before handing the book over to her. With nothing to hold on to now, he clasped his hands very tightly in his lap, trying to will himself to calm. Her giggling continued as she flipped through the pages, and Tristian watched her through his eyelashes. Though one hand was pressed against her mouth, he could see the smile lighting up her face as she flipped through the pages, occasionally pausing to read a few lines that caught her interest. “Well this is… incredibly saucy. I’m surprised Linzi gave this to you,” she said, closing the book. “What about it confused you?” 

Her tone was curious, not chastising or mocking. Tristian dared to meet her eyes again, clasping his hands even tighter to stop their trembling. “I thought it might help me wrap my head around some issues… no, problems… problems that I’ve been having.” He wished his waterskin was in sight. “I-I’ve been searching for words to help me describe something I’m… I’m having trouble expressing. But I’m afraid I’m just more confused now.” Her giggling had subsided, and he admired the way her red hair fell in soft waves around her face, the perfect curve of her lips in a mischievous smirk, her crooked nose, broken and mended long ago.  _ Tell her how you feel _ , Linzi had said. But… 

He let out a chuckle and looked away from her. Perhaps one small compliment would not hurt? “I… I have always admired how easily words come to you. I could not take away a woman’s pain or quell a riot with words alone.” 

He glanced up when she chuckled too, a slight blush forming on her cheeks. She took her time responding, like she had sometimes when she told him something more bold. He liked when she was plain with him - it made everything a bit easier to understand. “Tristian, maybe you’re… you’re trying to find words for something that can’t be described.” 

He frowned. “What do you mean? The greatest wisdom in all of Golarion can be found in numerous books… even the divine mercy of Sarenrae can be found in her sacred texts-”

He stopped when he realized she had shifted even closer and their knees were pressed together. His breath came in staggered beats, mesmerized by her amber eyes, longing to brush his fingertips along her jaw, to push her hair back behind her ears. 

Carefully, one of her hands released the book and reached towards him. Her fingers broke apart the grip he had on himself easily, and she entwined his fingers with hers instead. “And yet, the answers you seek cannot be found on the pages of a book.” 

Everything faded away as he looked into her eyes, all the problems, challenges, and complications. All that mattered was them, sitting in a tent, protected from the cold, and how shockingly warm Elra’s hand was in his.

“You… your hands are so warm. Like… like you are full of sunshine.” The words left his mouth before he had time to decide if he should say them. “Th-that probably sounded just as terrible as the book.” He couldn’t look away from her. His thoughts were at war with themselves, longing to touch her more, chastising himself for it, and hoping she would move closer. 

“Not at all,” she whispered, smiling gently. She held his gaze as her other hand left the book and brushed her fingertips along his face until she held his cheek in her palm. He could feel her quickened pulse, almost as fast as his own. 

He couldn’t think anymore. It was like his body worked of its own accord, giving in to his desires. His eyes closed and he relished in the sensation of her hands warming him. His free hand lifted and pressed hers against his face. “Full of sunshine…” he mumbled, hardly aware that he spoke the words out loud. He turned his head and brought her hand to his lips, kissing her palm tenderly. It was much smoother than he expected… how he wished he was instead kissing her lips… 

His eyes fluttered open and he realized what exactly he was doing and all the hundreds of reasons he shouldn’t be holding her hands like this. He let go of her, suddenly scared. “F-forgive me! I-I’m terribly out of line.” He bowed his head and shut his eyes tight, so as to not see her expression. This wasn’t supposed to happen,  _ wouldn’t _ have happened, if only he could control himself. “I pray you aren’t angry with me, p-please, I-I-”

“Tristian, it’s alright,” she said. He felt two fingers gently tilt his head up, and he looked again at her. All of her humor was now gone, and back was her veil of sadness. He had ruined things again, as always. 

“I… I’m sorry,” he whispered, unable to stop himself from continuing. “I hope I haven’t offended you.” His whole body trembled, like if he didn’t say something, he would burst. “It’s just… I feel something inside of me every time I-I look at you, or think about you. And I’ve been trying to find words to express it that don’t seem false.”

She let out a soft, breathy laugh. “You haven’t offended me.” Her hand twitched back towards his, but she instead settled it on her knee. “I… I did enjoy you acting impulsively, though. Perhaps you should try it more often.” She was blushing a little now too, but still held his gaze. 

“I’m… I’m glad I could at least amuse you, for a while,” he said, carefully avoiding her suggestion. He should absolutely not act on his impulses any longer. “I… you have been troubled as of late, and I wanted to say something, but couldn’t think of anything.” 

She let out a sigh. “That’s very sweet of you, Tristian.” She looked down, pondering her hands. “I enjoy talking to you, even if it’s about subjects that aren’t pleasant.” Her fingers traced the edge of the book in her lap. “Though of course, I do prefer the happier topics.” She picked up the book. “Do you want to finish reading this?” 

“I… you can have it,” he replied. “I think you’ll get more… pleasure? Amusement? Out of it than I did.” 

She chuckled and slipped it into her pack. “I’ll make sure it gets back to Linzi.” She looked at him again, and there was a moment where he thought she was going to move closer to him, but it passed. “I’ll leave you to rest, then. If you get cold, feel free to use my blanket as well.” 

His stomach twisted again. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” 

“Goodnight, Tristian. I’ll wake you when it’s your turn for watch.” 

“Goodnight, Elra,” he said quietly, both relieved that she was leaving and wishing she would stay. She crawled out of the tent and he made himself comfortable, hoping he would be able to sleep tonight. But without her presence, it seemed there was barely any difference in the temperature inside the tent than outside it. Tristian added her blanket to his as he shivered on the ground. His last thought before finding sleep was of how the intensity of her gaze filled him with warmth. 


End file.
